


The Hollow Needle

by BlueNeutrino



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, M/M, Non-Consensual, Rape, Sibling Incest, Soulless Sam Winchester, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:39:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNeutrino/pseuds/BlueNeutrino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulless Sam has his way with Dean. Warnings for graphic rape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hollow Needle

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this YouTube video by TheNerjaveika: [link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jt14Bt0YJz8.)
> 
> I'm not holding back on the rape part, so consider this your warning. I kind of shocked myself by writing this, but that video was really well made and really got to me. As much as I adore Sam, he does not come out of this favorably by nature of being a soulless dick, so please do not consider this character bashing. I love him to bits in regular circumstances. If you follow the plot of the video, when the actual Sam does finally remember what his soulless self did, he's horrified and extremely regretful even though it's not his fault.
> 
> If you ship consensual Wincest, you'll find that this fic pretty much implies that it's never been a thing and Dean is disgusted by the idea, although there's also a hint that he's repressing his own desires as well, so this may or not be for you. I ship Wincest secondary to Destiel, but I do like it and it certainly isn't my intention to shut it down. I just didn't want to complicate things in this fic with the suggestion that maybe Dean did have sexual feelings for Sam in the past.

It was just before sunset when the brothers made it back to the motel. Scattered clouds had drained most of the color from the dying rays of sunlight, leaving it a melancholy gray tainted with just a hint of angry red lingering beneath the surface. The light matched Dean's mood as he opened the door to their motel room, throwing his kit bag onto the floor and sitting himself down on the end of one of the twin queen-sized beds. A scowl had settled on his face; tired and bitter, regretting that taking out that vamp nest hadn't gone as smoothly as he'd hoped. There were machetes that needed to be cleaned to stop the blood crusting and damaging the blade, but it could wait until morning. He was sore and exhausted, covered in bruises and scratches, and with an ache in his soul he knew his brother of course didn't feel.

Sam – or not-Sam or whatever the hell he was – had followed him inside and closed the door behind them, before sitting down on the end of the other bed to begin to untie his boots. "It's a shame about that waitress, huh?" he remarked unaffectedly, "Thought I might have a chance with her."

Despite knowing it wasn’t Sam’s fault - although he didn’t know _what_ to blame for Sam being as cold and callous as he currently was – Dean’s skin still crawled in revulsion at the sentiment. “You know Sam, when we fail to save people, there’s a reason to be upset about it _other_ than that you never got to sleep with them.” He growled out the response angrily, having had enough of trying to explain to the soulless thing sat next to him what being a good person meant. It didn’t seem like ‘Sam’ was even trying anymore, but Dean didn’t want him to keep pretending to care. He just wanted his brother back.

Sam shrugged, nonplussed. “What are you taking the moral high ground for? I saw you flirting with her. You thought you were in with a shot too.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that’s the reason I feel bad about not saving her,” Dean snapped back. Not even wanting to look at him, he kicked off his boots and then stood up, shrugging off his bloodstained jacket to throw it over the chair near the bed. His phone was running low on battery, so he slipped it out of his pocket to plug it in at the wall.

“No need to get so pissed, Dean,” Sam said as he watched him walk away, sounding annoyed. “It’s just that neither of us has gotten laid in a while, and since things didn’t work out with her, I thought you might want to do something about it.”

A look of revulsion crossed Dean’s face as he turned back to glare at Sam. He knew what his brother had gotten up to in the months he’d spent hunting with the Campbells, and he wanted no part of it. “I am _not_ hiring a prostitute with you, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he snapped, making a cutting motion with his hand in a gesture of finality. Whatever that thing was wearing Sammy’s face, it wasn’t Sam. Dean barely wanted anything to do with it until he found a way to get Sam’s soul out of Hell and bring his brother back, but if it meant they could get on with hunting, for now he was tolerating all the vile things it did or said. He turned away again, looking for the charger to plug in his phone. He vaguely registered the sound of Sam standing up behind him, hearing the rustle of sheets and the sound of bedsprings, and then he heard his voice again, this time only a foot or two away.

“Actually, I had something much cheaper in mind,” Sam said, still sounding as nonchalant as ever, and then Dean felt a firm hand on his shoulder spinning him round roughly and pushing him up against the wall. The back of his head collided with the solid surface, sending a shock of pain through his skull, but he barely had time to register what was happening before he felt Sam’s mouth crashing against his. Sam wasn’t gentle, his lips forcing Dean’s apart as his tongue thrust insistently inside, and Dean drew in sharp, shocked breaths in between the repeated assaults on his mouth.

“Sam, _what the hell_ …?” he gasped out, trying to pull his head away but realizing he had nowhere to go. Sam had one hand against his chest, holding him in place, while the other had crept up to tangle in his hair and keep his head still. Dean brought up his hands to Sam’s shoulders to try to push him off, but the moment that it seemed to work Sam just slammed him back against the wall with even more force than before.

“What’s the problem, Dean?” he growled as he lowered his lips to his brother’s mouth again, sounding irritated. “Just enjoy it.”

Dean tried to fight back, but it was no use. He’d never really been a match for Sammy the way he used to be, ever since that damned growth spurt had rendered the younger Winchester several inches taller than him. Even if this wasn’t really Sam anymore, it was still the same body, but if anything now even stronger. Sam had been working out in the year after being raised from Hell, and he was now ripped like bodybuilder, whereas Dean was still slighter and his athletically toned but comparatively modest muscles couldn’t compete.

Sam had him firmly pinned in place, his mouth aggressively forcing itself upon Dean’s, whose movements weren’t so much kissing back as he was just trying to pull his lips away to breathe. He was shaking slightly from shock, almost unable to believe that even in a soulless state Sam would do this, and it took a moment or two longer for him to process what was going on as Sam began to push his overshirt from his shoulders and forcefully undress him.

“Sam, stop,” he pleaded, trying to get through to him.

Sam pulled away momentarily, but it was only to shrug his own shirt off and pull his t-shirt over his head before his attention was back on Dean again. “Why?” he said, hands grasping at the hem of Dean’s t-shirt and forcing him to comply as it was yanked roughly over his head.

“Because…” Dean snapped out as he disentangled himself from the material, finding he was struggling to articulate it and barely able to believe that he _had_ to. “Sam, how can you think that this is okay?”

“Because I know you like sex,” Sam replied bluntly as he grasped Dean’s shoulders and roughly maneuvered him round to back him against the foot of the bed. “And I know you want sex.” He shoved Dean down hard onto the mattress. Dean felt a breath escape him as he collided with it, finding his muscles had frozen up in shock and fear. Sam then moved to kneel over him, straddling his hips as he began to work at Dean’s belt. “And I know _I_ want it. So this seems like a solution for us both.”

“Sam, please…” Dean breathed. He wanted to fight back. He was imagining it, picturing himself lashing out, hitting Sam, forcing him away, and spelling out in no uncertain terms that _this was not okay._ But he found that he couldn’t do it. Whatever monster seemed to have taken over, when Dean looked at the man sat on top of him, he still saw his brother’s face. This was still Sam, albeit some warped, twisted version, and Dean couldn’t hurt him. He was going to let him do what he wanted because he was putting Sam’s needs first, just like he’d always done, no matter how depraved those needs had become.

Dean’s jeans were undone now, and Sam had put a hand underneath him to raise his hips so that he could slide them off. They came down at the same time as his boxers, and Sam pushed them from his feet so that they fell to the floor, leaving Dean completely naked and exposed underneath his brother. “There,” Sam muttered in a satisfied tone, beginning to undo his own pants and finish undressing himself.

Trying to get the logical side of his mind to communicate with his body and realize he had to _do something,_ Dean tried sitting up and pulling away. Sam quickly pushed him down again, his hands on him lightning fast as he saw Dean trying to move. “Why are you fighting me, Dean? This is going to feel good.”

He finished kicking off his clothes so that they fell in a heap to the floor, leaving Dean able to see his thick, hardened cock jutting out from between his legs. It hovered over Dean’s stomach as Sam leant over him with one hand beside his head, the other running over his chest to flick at a nipple before sliding down his side to his hip. Sam’s fingers crept around to probe Dean’s ass cheek and then slid under his thigh, lifting it and spreading it outwards. Despite himself, Dean felt his body responding to the touch, and with a sense of disgust he felt his own cock beginning to harden.

“No, Sam, don’t…” Dean whispered, barely able to speak as Sam leaned back again to lift both of Dean’s legs so that they hooked round his waist, leaving both Dean’s hole and his cock horribly exposed. Sam leaned down again to silence his protests with a forceful kiss, his hands roaming over Dean’s body while Dean could feel his erection between his thighs. His skin was being gripped and pinched hard enough that he thought it would bruise as Sam’s hands closed around his hips, keeping him from moving, and then he felt Sam’s mouth slide from his own and travel down his neck to bite at his collarbone. Sam’s teeth were sharp, clamping down strongly, and Dean cried out.

His breath was coming in shuddering gasps as he again tried to reason. “Sam, we shouldn’t be doing this. We’re _brothers…_ ”

“So?” Sam muttered against Dean’s skin, sounding like he really didn’t care as he traced his mouth across Dean’s chest, continuing to graze and nip with his teeth. “We’re still just bodies, Dean, and bodies have needs.”

“No…” It came out weak and shaking, barely more than a whisper. “You’re just a body, Sam, but I have a soul, and I know this is _wrong._ I don’t want this.”

“Then why are you hard?”

It was such a sickeningly nonchalant response, but Dean felt his cheeks flush with shame as he realized he couldn’t deny that his own cock was hard and aroused from his brother’s body touching him like this. But that didn’t mean he was enjoying it.

Sam gave a sharp tug on Dean's hips to pull him further down the bed, drawing him even closer to him. Dean felt the head of Sam’s cock nudge at his entrance, and gave a whimper. Sam rolled his eyes, almost seeming to find it pathetic. “Come on, Dean, don’t pretend you don’t like this kind of thing. I know you’ve tried this out with girls before; you’ve done the pegging and the dildos and all the other stuff you think I don’t know about. Did you really imagine I didn’t know about Rhonda Hurley’s panties? Because you never kept that as secret as you thought. I know you like doing the girl’s stuff, Dean. You like having cock in you; it’s just that this time I can make it a real one.”

Dean felt tears pricking at his eyes. “It isn’t like that, Sam. That’s not how it works. Not like this…”

His protests went ignored. Sam moved a dry finger to rest between his ass cheeks and began to pry into his hole, and Dean gasped from the pain. Sam smirked, before removing his fingers again to spit on them for lubrication. It wasn’t so much out of any concern for Dean’s comfort, but just because he knew it would be more efficient. “Just let me open you up a bit Dean, and you might actually enjoy it.”

His fingers returned to Dean’s ass, pushing inwards past Dean’s rim and roughly starting to stretch him out. His touch burned hot and sore and it was all Dean could do to keep from sobbing. Sam took no time or care in getting him prepared, impatiently pulling his fingers out after only a few seconds and then replacing them with his throbbing cock head positioned at Dean’s entrance.

Panic gripped Dean as he realized what was about to happen, but if he was going to do anything to stop it, he’d left it too late. “Sam…” he gasped, one final plea, but Sam interrupted it midway as he quickly and roughly thrust home. “S-Sam…” The second word came out as a shuddering whimper. Sam’s wide girth caused Dean’s rim to burn as he was stretched out much too far, his brother’s length sliding up into him painfully.

Dean bit his lip, tears beginning to spill down over his cheeks as he screwed his eyes shut. _This isn’t Sam. This isn’t Sam doing this to you._ Except no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was.

Sam didn’t take things steadily, beginning to thrust hard and fast into Dean as his only interest was in getting himself off. Dean held his breath, trying to blank out the sensations of what was happening, although the pain in his ass was sharp and insistent and wouldn’t be ignored. Sam's balls slapped against him with an obscene smacking noise while his brother's large cock repeatedly rammed home, the coarse friction causing an unwelcome and unpleasant heat to pool between Dean's legs. The stimulation on his prostate was sending jolts of unwanted pleasure to his brain, and he couldn’t help the way sharp gasps escaped him with each one.

He lay stiff and unresponsive for several moments before Sam gave one final grunt, and Dean felt the sensation of his brother’s come spurting up into his body. He shivered in revulsion as Sam collapsed down on top of him, breathing heavily, and Dean squirmed uncomfortably beneath the weight on his chest. He felt Sam’s hair tickling his face, could smell his sweat and aftershave in his nose, and felt his stomach churning as he wanted to be sick. His entire body was trembling and he could feel his heart pounding violently, no longer from fear but from abhorrence at what had just happened.

A short while later, Sam rolled off of him and then flopped down on the bed beside Dean, his breathing evening out and seeming completely relaxed. “See. Wasn’t so bad, huh?” Sam remarked lazily. “You might even have enjoyed it more if you’d just relaxed.” If he’d noticed how traumatized he’d left Dean, he didn’t seem to care.

Dean was still shaking, and not wanting to be anywhere near Sam – or rather the empty shell where Sam was supposed to be – he rolled onto his side to turn away from him, not yet trusting his legs to carry him if he got up to move. His cock was still hard and throbbing against his stomach, having been completely neglected by Sam in favor of his own, and Dean felt disgusted by it. It was like his own body had betrayed him, getting hard from something that he loathed and made him feel physically sick. He didn’t want to wait for it to go down, he just wanted it gone. He wanted this whole thing to be over. Still trembling, Dean moved a hand to close in a tight fist around his dick and began to pump furiously and quietly, hoping to take care of it quickly and just make his erection go away.

Despite his attempts to be discreet, Sam noticed what he was doing. “You know, you could have done that while I was fucking you. Would’ve been a whole lot easier,” he commented drily.

Dean didn’t respond, not having the words to express his revulsion right now. His cheeks were still burning hot with the humiliation of what had just happened, and he didn’t want Sam – or anyone _ever_ – to see. After a few moments he finally finished himself with a soft gasp, relieved to stop feeling like he was still turned on by his own brother, no matter how warped and distorted those thoughts had become as they rattled round his head. It had even occurred to him once or twice that maybe there had been a time when he’d wanted it, when Sam was still Sam, and there had been thoughts drifting into his mind that in different circumstances he might have enjoyed it, or might have liked the feel of Sam's lean body moving against his, but he quickly silenced them. His body’s reactions had already disgusted him enough without his mind joining in as well. Wiping himself down on the sheets, Dean closed his eyes and focused on regulating his breathing as he tried to calm down, attempting futilely to push all thoughts of what had just happened out of his mind.

It wasn’t easy to block out. He could still feel Sam’s hot presence at his back, lying calm and chilled as if he hadn’t just completely violated Dean, and Dean just wanted to get away from it. After a few moments of gulping down deep, calming breaths, he slowly eased himself up off the bed and began to make his way towards the other one. As he moved, he felt a moistness around his hole as some of Sam's come spilled out of him, and judging from the pain he wouldn't be surprised if it was mixed with blood too. He moved gingerly, his ass and limbs still unbearably sore and his motions stiff from discomfort. In the time since they’d gotten back, the sun had gone down completely and the light in the room had dimmed considerably, which Dean was grateful for. He hoped that Sam wasn’t watching him as he walked away, determinedly keeping his back turned and still feeling horribly exposed as his naked body crossed the room. He bent down to pick up his t-shirt and boxer shorts from the floor and pulled them on slowly, limbs still shaking, before drawing back the covers on the other bed and clambering into it. Still facing away from Sam, he wrapped the sheets tightly around himself like a protective cocoon before burrowing himself down into it. 

Normally, it would be far too early for him to go to sleep now, but with his body completely sore from his various injuries and the punishment Sam had just inflicted upon it, Dean wanted nothing more than to just escape into the blankness of sleep and get away from it all. His mind was still racing like an engine motor and he was desperate for it to still, to stop replaying what had just happened and tricking himself into believing that it was _Sam_ who had done it. That wasn’t Sam. It was just an empty shell wearing Sam’s face. A hollow space that it had hurt to feel inside him, but Sam had never been there.

No, Sam was somewhere else. Sam was still trapped in the Cage, enduring unimaginable torments even worse than this, and although that brought Dean no comfort, it gave him a renewed sense of purpose. He had to find a way to get Sam out and bring his brother back. Both because Sam didn’t deserve that kind of suffering, and because Dean couldn’t endure the thought of that _thing_ wearing his brother’s face being allowed to walk around freely any longer. Whatever _it_ was… he couldn’t even call it evil; it was just pure amorality. Something gut-churning and horrifying and inhuman that chilled him to the bone. Terrifyingly, it probably hadn’t even meant to hurt Dean: it was just that it didn’t care if it did.

Dean drew in a shuddering breath as he tried to force himself to sleep. He knew that Sam wouldn't, soulless as he was, and he almost felt scared to fall unconscious with Sam still lying awake nearby. The thought sent a chill through him, fearful of what else Sam might do if given chance, but he knew he'd have to at some point and he didn't think he could carry on feeling any more scared or disturbed by Sam than he'd already been before. Tomorrow he was going to have to get up and keep going on as normal, because that soulless thing in the other bed didn’t even seem to think or care that it had done anything wrong. Dean would just have to pretend that everything was fine, and fake that this hadn't shaken him to his very core or left his stomach churning and mind reeling. Somehow he would get back to hunting and go about business as usual - and never breathe a word about this to _anyone_ \- and though it may be hard, Dean knew he could manage it. He would do it for Sam’s sake. Because even if he had to endure pain and humiliation like this a thousand times over, he would do it if it meant that Sam had a strong, undamaged body to come back to when he got out of Hell. And he would get out. Dean would see to that. That was the thought that he held onto as he closed he eyes and finally slept, because as long as he could get Sam out of Hell, and have him safe and alive again no matter what his body and mind had been guilty of without his soul, then nothing else mattered.

 


End file.
